‘Postpone, or call the whole thing off altogether?’
The pastor had the decency to lower his eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ he mumbled. ‘It’ll be up to the Hamiltons and the Whittakers now.’
Twelve
Duncan Saddleworth closed the door behind the police detective, and then leaned forward until his forehead rested against the medieval framework and closed his eyes.
‘Focus,’ he murmured.
He straightened, before hurrying towards the vestry, tugging the white collar at his throat as he passed row upon row of pews.
The figure on the brass crucifix on the altar burned its eyes at his retreat, and Duncan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he resisted the urge to turn back and prostrate himself at its feet.
Instead, he slammed the door to the vestry shut.
He ran his hand under his collar, loosened the top button at the neck of the black shirt and ripped the white collar loose, throwing it across the paper-strewn desk with a low snarl.
Next, he removed the jacket from his shoulders, and crossed the room to a wardrobe next to a plain frosted window. He tugged the curtains across the panes, then hung the jacket on a coat hanger and undid his suit trousers.
He redressed quickly in jeans and a grey sweatshirt, ran his hand through his hair in the absence of a comb, and shut the wardrobe door. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and was taken aback at how scared he looked.
Sunlight now streamed through the stained-glass window that overlooked his desk. The glasswork was a modern design compared to the rest of the church, added along with the vestry extension in the late eighteenth century and ugly, in his opinion. It jarred his sentimental longing for something more traditional, but those days were long gone. His own exploration of the faith while at university had led him across Europe, soaking up the history and architecture before he’d immersed himself in the role that now saw him here, in this fractured parish.
A bookcase lined the wall opposite him, the shelves taken up by photo albums that he hadn’t opened in years, books he had no intention of reading ever again, and framed photographs that pinched at his heart if he dared to look at them too closely.
He groaned and leaned forward, clutching the edge of the desk, his knuckles white.
A persistent dragging sound filled his ears, and had done for the past week, as if his memories were trying to pull him downwards with them.
‘No,’ he groaned, and closed his eyes.
He’d been so careful.
He exhaled, then straightened and squared his shoulders. He’d been tested before, and his faith had triumphed.
He’d acted on the information to hand, his actions justified and true in the eyes of his god, as far as he was concerned.
He slumped into the cracked leather chair behind his desk, waited until his heart rate had calmed, and then pulled a mobile phone from his pocket. He dialled a number from memory and fought down the panic.
The call was answered on the third ring.
‘What do you want?’
Duncan cleared his throat. ‘The police were here.’
‘Do they suspect anything about us?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’ Duncan dabbed at his brow once more. ‘She was asking questions about Sophie.’
‘She?’
‘Detective Sergeant Kay Hunter.’
‘Interesting.’
Duncan held his breath while the silence dragged out, until he could bear it no more. ‘What should I do?’
‘Nothing,’ came the reply. ‘Carry on as normal. Don’t draw attention to yourself. It’ll be fine.’
‘Okay.’
The line went dead, and Duncan erased the call log before tossing the phone onto the desk.
He swallowed, and checked his watch.
Carry on as normal.
‘Jesus,’ he swore, then quickly raised his eyes to the ceiling and apologised.
Sweeping up the phone and a set of car keys from his desk, he locked the vestry door and hurried outside.
A warm breeze brushed his face as he exited the porch, the morning rain shower lending a renewed freshness to the day, before a whirling dervish of leaves spun across the car park and chased at his ankles as he hurried to his vehicle. He peered over his shoulder as he pointed the key fob at the door.
He’d invested too much of his life into the church, but now it seemed he was losing control.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Thirteen
When Kay and Carys entered the main sitting room, the family liaison officer was sitting on a sofa opposite Sophie’s father, an earnest expression on her face while she spoke to him in muted tones.
A surprised expression crossed Matthew’s face on seeing Kay, before he recovered. ‘Have you charged him yet?’
‘We’re still interviewing Peter Evans, and waiting for some of the forensic results,’ said Kay. She gestured to the sofa. ‘May we join you?’
He nodded, and slid across the cushions to make room.
Kay waited until Carys had settled and pulled out her notebook. ‘I wanted to ask you a bit more about the “purity pledge” that Sophie took. I understand about her side of the pledge, but I didn’t know that you also made a commitment. What did that entail?’
Matthew cleared his throat. ‘It’s something all fathers do as part of the “purity pledge”. We undertake to protect our daughter’s chastity, and provide spiritual guidance if required.’
‘How long have you and Diane attended the private church gatherings?’
The man’s eyes drifted to the patio windows. Beyond, Kay could see his wife talking to what appeared to be a gardener. The man had to be in his seventies at least, his features crinkled by years spent outdoors, and his pose relaxed as he leaned on a garden fork and listened to Diane.
She wore a wide brimmed hat and held secateurs in her hand, her free hand gesturing towards the flowerbed before them. She turned from the gardener and proceeded to snip away at a nearby rosebush while he returned to digging. After a moment, she stopped what she was doing and stood with her hands on her hips, watching him.
Kay bit back a smile. It appeared that Lady Griffith preferred to do “at” gardening, rather than actively participate. She cleared her throat, and Matthew turned back to face her.
‘Sorry, what was the question?’
‘I was asking about the private church gatherings. How long have you been going to those?’
‘About eighteen months.’
‘I understand from Duncan Saddleworth that there was quite a lot of preparation for Sophie leading up to taking her purity pledge. Was it the same for you?’
‘I suppose. I had a couple of meetings with Duncan when Sophie first spoke about it.’ His gaze dropped to his hands in his lap. ‘To be honest, Diane was more interested in the whole thing than me. Obviously, I’d have supported Sophie in whatever decision she made, which is why I made an effort to read all the pamphlets Duncan gave us. Diane was determined that the whole ceremony would go off without a hitch – whether that was for Sophie’s benefit, or her own, you’ll have to ask her.’
Kay noticed the note of bitterness in his voice, but pressed on.
‘How did you meet your wife?’
‘It was when I was working in London. I’d started up my first software business and it was doing really well – money wasn’t a problem, and so I was socialising every night, going out to parties and attending all sorts of events. Diane was doing some modelling work here and there. Tame stuff – nothing dodgy. Things like those magazine “true stories posed by models” – that sort of thing. I don’t know how she managed to persuade her parents to let her do it, but she even enrolled in a part-time acting course at one of the theatres for a time. Said it made her look more realistic in front of the cameras.’
Kay resisted the urge to roll her eyes. ‘How seriously did you take your responsibilities regarding the purity pledge?’
<
br /> ‘What you mean?’
‘You said yourself that you had ordered Peter Evans to stop hanging around the house, and that you didn’t want him to see Sophie. Was that because of the purity pledge?’
He frowned. ‘I didn’t want him hanging around with my daughter. Diane will tell you – he’s just a labourer. Sophie could have done so much better than that, I mean – she was. She was engaged to Josh Hamilton, after all.’
‘Bearing in mind the nature of Sophie’s pledge, was she accompanied by yourself or your wife when meeting Josh?’
‘Of course not,’ he spluttered. ‘This is the twenty-first century. The purity pledge isn’t some sort of Victorian way of controlling teenage girls. It was Sophie’s decision to take it. Josh respected that – he’s always been the perfect gentleman towards my daughter.’
‘Can you recall why Sophie decided she wanted to take the pledge?’
‘I think she’d been talking to Duncan about the church group he’d worked with in Connecticut. She spent quite a bit of time with him after school on some days. She seemed interested in the pledge, so he gave her some brochures about it. A few weeks later, we were having dinner and Diane asked her if she was thinking of taking the pledge. She seemed surprised at the question, and then Diane mentioned that she had heard from Blake that Josh was really quite taken with Sophie. By then, they had been seeing each other for six months.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘You could see her blossom at that news – I think she hoped that Josh was serious, you know what teenage girls are like. No confidence. She announced then that she’d like to take the pledge and that if Josh was serious, she didn’t want anyone else.’
‘When did Josh propose to her?’
‘About a week later, at a garden party at the Hamiltons. Sophie was beside herself with excitement all week after hearing what Diane had to say. The three of us swore ourselves to secrecy that we didn’t know he was going to propose because we didn’t want to spoil the occasion for him. In the end, it was perfect,’ he said, his eyes wistful. ‘He’s a nice lad.’
‘I’m surprised at her getting engaged at sixteen,’ said Kay. ‘You didn’t have a problem with that?’
‘No, not at all. After all, they weren’t going to marry until Sophie was eighteen. I think in a world as cynical as ours has become, it’s rather nice to think that some youngsters are quite old-fashioned.’
Kay noticed movement out the corner of her eye and saw Diane making her way up the garden towards the house. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Whittaker. We’ll be in touch when we have an update for you.’
She led Carys from the room, almost bumping into the housekeeper in the hallway.
The woman jerked backwards, recovering quickly before gesturing to the front door.
‘I’ll see you out, Detective.’
Kay smiled to herself as she followed the woman to the front door. Evidently, the housekeeper was desperate for gossip and Kay made a mental note to speak to her in private at some point.
It would be interesting to learn what else the woman had overheard.
Fourteen
Kay was about to suggest to Carys that they try the back door to the Hamiltons’ house, when the front door was wrenched open.
Blake Hamilton glared out at them. ‘Detectives?’
Kay forced her sweetest smile onto her face. ‘Good morning, Mr Hamilton. We’d like to speak with Josh, please.’
The man sighed. ‘This is bordering on harassment, DS Hunter.’
‘I’m investigating the murder of your son’s fiancée, Mr Hamilton.’ Kay’s smile disappeared.
He raised his hand. ‘Sorry. Of course. Come this way.’
He led the way through to the living room leaving Carys to close the front door, and gestured to a pair of armchairs.
Josh and his mother sat on a sofa next to one another, the young man’s face miserable.
Kay waited until Carys was ready, notebook and pen in hand, before she began.
‘I hope everything went as well as it could with the university yesterday?’
‘It’s fine.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll go back in the New Year.’
‘It’s better this way,’ said Blake. ‘The dean advised yesterday that he’d already received two phone calls from national newspapers.’ He held out his hands as if to say what can you do? ‘Unfortunately, when you’re top of your business game, your family has to cope with being under the microscope as well. It wouldn’t have been fair on Josh to have to deal with that sort of scrutiny.’
Kay’s eyes moved from the father to the son, who withered under her gaze.
‘Have you any idea why Peter Evans would want to harm Sophie, Josh?’ She glared at Blake as she phrased the question, keen to stop him answering on his son’s behalf.
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t know him. I didn’t know Sophie knew him.’ He glanced at his hands, then raised a finger to his lips and chewed at a nail.
‘Josh, hands,’ said Courtney.
The young man dropped his hand into his lap and sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I really can’t help you.’ He wiped at his eyes. ‘I can’t believe she’s dead.’
He burst into tears, and Courtney rose from her chair. ‘Detectives, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to stop questioning Josh now.’
Kay bit back the retort that formed on her lips, and instead nodded. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow, Josh. I’d like to find out more about Sophie. It’ll be of enormous help, okay?’
He nodded, and then traipsed after his mother out of the room.
Kay waited until she heard Courtney’s voice from some distance away, comforting her son, and then turned her attention back to Blake.
‘How did Josh meet Sophie?’
‘Her parents were invited to join a select group of worshippers with myself and Courtney through our local church.’
‘Did you know Lady Griffith and her husband before that?’
‘Only in passing. Did you know Diane’s family have been linked to royalty in England since the sixteenth century?’
‘I didn’t, no. How did you find out?’
‘Oh, I like to study history, so when we moved out this way, I made a point of finding out about the stately homes around here and the land they’re on. Lots of Roman and Norman history in Kent, of course. Diane’s house has been passed through the generations since the mid-1700s – did you know?’
‘No. How did the engagement between Josh and Sophie come about?’
Blake smiled. ‘Like a dream,’ he said. ‘Those two – well, let’s just say fate shone upon them. A rich American heir to a business empire and a titled lady’s daughter?’ He lowered his gaze before pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Sorry. I still can’t believe she’s gone.’
‘Take your time, Mr Hamilton. It’s okay.’
He nodded, his eyes closed, and then took a deep breath before speaking once more.
‘They were perfect for each other,’ he said. ‘You should’ve seen them. Last night. Before—’ He gulped. ‘Sorry. They were such a beautiful couple.’
Kay waited for him to compose himself, then nodded at Carys and rose from her seat.
‘Thank you for your time today, Mr Hamilton. We’ll be in touch about speaking to Josh again. We’ll see ourselves out.’
* * *
Kay overtook a slow-moving moped and aimed the car for the lane that led back to police station.
At the last minute, she indicated and swerved into a side street that widened before depositing them in the town centre.
‘Coffee?’
‘Yeah. I could do with something stronger after that conversation, but coffee’ll have to do.’
Kay reversed the vehicle into a parking space, then climbed out and led the way across the street and up a flight of concrete stairs to the shopping precinct, before turning right and following the paved pedestrian area until a favourite café of theirs came into sight.
‘Grab a table. You want something to eat?’
‘That’d be gre
at, thanks. Bacon butty, please?’
‘Coming right up.’
Kay left Carys at a table bathed in sunlight outside the window of the café and pushed the door open, the bitter tang of freshly ground coffee filling her senses as she approached the counter and placed their order.
The owner handed her a table number on a metal stalk along with her change, and she hurried back to the table, her stomach rumbling.
‘Did you forget to eat this morning?’ Carys grinned.
‘I don’t really do breakfast. I will at weekends if we’re both home, but that usually ends up being brunch or something.’
‘God, I couldn’t manage to get out the door without my bowl of porridge first thing.’
Kay eyed the other woman’s figure. ‘I honestly have no idea where you put it.’
Carys laughed. ‘I run. That helps.’
They looked up as the door to the café swung outwards and a waitress appeared bearing a tray with their drinks and food.
‘Thanks.’ Kay poured milk from a small jug and pushed the jug towards Carys before picking up her spoon and stirring her coffee.
Carys stirred a sugar sachet into her coffee cup and frowned. ‘I wonder how desperate Blake Hamilton was to get Josh married into the English aristocracy?’
Kay leaned back on the bench, squinting in the bright sunshine. ‘But why kill Sophie? That’d defeat the object of his plans, right?’
The younger detective shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but this whole thing seems to be related to an elitist church group, of which he’s a founding member, a business of his that’s doing great in the city, and the fact he wanted to get his son married into the English aristocracy.’
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